W[illiam] S[hakespeare], "A Funeral Elegy for Master William Peter," (London: G.Eld for T.Thorpe, 1612). Normalized text, ed. Donald Foster.
TO MASTER JOHN PETER
of Bowhay in Devon, Esquire.
The love I bore to your brother, and will do to his memory, hath craved from me this last duty of a friend; I am herein but a second to the privilege of truth, who can warrant more in his behalf than I undertook to deliver. Exercise in this kind I will little affect, and am less addicted to, but there must be miracle in that labor which, to witness my remembrance to this departed gentleman, I would not willingly undergo. Yet whatsoever is here done, is done to him and to him only. For whom and whose sake I will not forget to remember any friendly respects to you, or to any of those that have loved him for himself, and himself for his deserts.
W. S.
A FUNERAL ELEGY.
Since time, and his predestinated end, Abridged the circuit of his hopeful days, Whiles both his youth and virtue did intend The good endeavors of deserving praise, 5What memorable monument can last Whereon to build his never-blemished name But his own worth, wherein his life was graced. . . Sith as that ever he maintained the same? Oblivion in the darkest day to come, 10When sin shall tread on merit in the dust, Cannot rase out the lamentable tomb Of his short-lived deserts; but still they must, Even in the hearts and memories of men, Claim fit respect, that they, in every limb 15Remembering what he was, with comfort then May pattern out one truly good, by him. For he was truly good, if honest care Of harmless conversation may commend A life free from such stains as follies are, 20Ill recompensed only in his end. Nor can the tongue of him who loved him least (If there can be minority of love To one superlative above the rest Of many men in steady faith) reprove 25His constant temper, in the equal weight Of thankfulness and kindness: Truth doth leave Sufficient proof, he was in every right As kind to give, as thankful to receive. The curious eye of a quick-brained survey 30Could scantly find a mote amidst the sun Of his too-shortened days, or make a prey Of any faulty errors he had done. Not that he was above the spleenful sense And spite of malice, but for that he had 35Warrant enough in his own innocence Against the sting of some in nature bad. Yet who is he so absolutely blest That lives encompassed in a mortal frame, Sometime in reputation not oppressed 40By some in nothing famous but defame? Such in the bypath and the ridgeway lurk That leads to ruin, in a smooth pretense Of what they do to be a special work Of singleness, not tending to offense; 45Whose very virtues are, not to detract Whiles hope remains of gain (base fee of slaves), Despising chiefly men in fortunes wracked. But death to such gives unremembered graves. Now therein lived he happy, if to be 50Free from detraction happiness it be. His younger years gave comfortable hope To hope for comfort in his riper youth, Which, harvest-like, did yield again the crop Of education, bettered in his truth. 55Those noble twins of heaven-infused races, Learning and wit, refined in their kind Did jointly both, in their peculiar graces, Enrich the curious temple of his mind; Indeed a temple, in whose precious white 60Sat reason by religion overswayed, Teaching his other senses, with delight, How piety and zeal should be obeyed. Not fruitlessly in prodigal expense Wasting his best of time, but so content 65With reason's golden mean to make defense Against the assault of youth's encouragement; As not the tide of this surrounding age (When now his father's death had freed his will) Could make him subject to the drunken rage 70Of such whose only glory is their ill. He from the happy knowledge of the wise Draws virtue to reprove secured fools And shuns the glad sleights of ensnaring vice To spend his spring of days in sacred schools. 75Here gave he diet to the sick desires That day by day assault the weaker man, And with fit moderation still retires From what doth batter virtue now and then. But that I not intend in full discourse 80To progress out his life, I could display A good man in each part exact and force The common voice to warrant what I say. For if his fate and heaven had decreed That full of days he might have lived to see 85The grave in peace, the times that should succeed Had been best-speaking witnesses with me; Whose conversation so untouched did move Respect most in itself, as who would scan His honesty and worth, by them might prove 90He was a kind, true, perfect gentleman. Not in the outside of disgraceful folly, Courting opinion with unfit disguise, Affecting fashions, nor addicted wholly To unbeseeming blushless vanities, 95But suiting so his habit and desire As that his virtue was his best attire. Not in the waste of many idle words Cared he to be heard talk, nor in the float Of fond conceit, such as this age affords, 100By vain discourse upon himself to dote; For his becoming silence gave such grace To his judicious parts, as what he spake Seemed rather answers which the wise embrace Than busy questions such as talkers make. 105And though his qualities might well deserve Just commendation, yet his furnished mind Such harmony of goodness did preserve As nature never built in better kind; Knowing the best, and therefore not presuming 110In knowing, but for that it was the best, Ever within himself free choice resuming Of true perfection, in a perfect breast; So that his mind and body made an inn, The one to lodge the other, both like framed 115For fair conditions, guests that soonest win Applause; in generality, well famed, If trim behavior, gestures mild, discreet Endeavors, modest speech, beseeming mirth, True friendship, active grace, persuasion sweet, 120Delightful love innated from his birth, Acquaintance unfamiliar, carriage just, Offenseless resolution, wished sobriety, Clean-tempered moderation, steady trust, Unburthened conscience, unfeigned piety; 125If these, or all of these, knit fast in one Can merit praise, then justly may we say, Not any from this frailer stage is gone Whose name is like to live a longer day. . . Though not in eminent courts or places great 130For popular concourse, yet in that soil Where he enjoyed his birth, life, death, and seat Which now sits mourning his untimely spoil. And as much glory is it to be good For private persons, in their private home, 135As those descended from illustrious blood In public view of greatness, whence they come. Though I, rewarded with some sadder taste Of knowing shame, by feeling it have proved My country's thankless misconstruction cast 140Upon my name and credit, both unloved By some whose fortunes, sunk into the wane Of plenty and desert, have strove to win Justice by wrong, and sifted to embane My reputation with a witless sin; 145Yet time, the father of unblushing truth, May one day lay ope malice which hath crossed it, And right the hopes of my endangered youth, Purchasing credit in the place I lost it. Even in which place the subject of the verse 150(Unhappy matter of a mourning style Which now that subject's merits doth rehearse) Had education and new being; while By fair demeanor he had won repute Amongst the all of all that lived there, 155For that his actions did so wholly suit With worthiness, still memorable here. The many hours till the day of doom Will not consume his life and hapless end, For should he lie obscured without a tomb, 160Time would to time his honesty commend; Whiles parents to their children will make known, And they to their posterity impart, How such a man was sadly overthrown By a hand guided by a cruel heart, 165Whereof as many as shall hear that sadness Will blame the hard fate, the other's madness; Whiles such as do recount that tale of woe, Told by remembrance of the wisest heads, Will in the end conclude the matter so, 170As they will all go weeping to their beds. For when the world lies wintered in the storms Of fearful consummation, and lays down Th' unsteady change of his fantastic forms, Expecting ever to be overthrown; 175When the proud height of much affected sin Shall ripen to a head, and in that pride End in the miseries it did begin And fall amidst the glory of his tide; Then in a book where every work is writ 180Shall this man's actions be revealed, to show The gainful fruit of well-employed wit, Which paid to heaven the debt that it did owe. Here shall be reckoned up ...
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